A Chuisle Mo Chroi, Pulse of my Heart
by Kuroi-Ookami-1234
Summary: A Chuisle Mo Chroi translates to Pulse of my Heart in gaelic  Irish I believe .    Fjotra, a young, stubborn Nord thief, and Khorbuck, a typical Orsimer, are suddenly pushed together when Fjotra must break into his house. Rated M for g/v/l/sc.OrcXNord lat
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I know, I know. Tiny, boring, maybe confusing chapter. I apologize in advance, but I had no idea how to start this. This was all I could come up with. I promise it will get better later on, but I'll only continue it if there's a demand. Please comment, critique, and like please. Also correct me on any lore I'm getting wrong. I'm going off of in-game experiences, wikis, and other stories. I'm trying to stay lore-friendly though. You can find pictures of the two main characters (Fjotra and Khorbuck) in my profile._

I hesitated in front of the small shack's door. I only took a moment to find the design etched into the wood on the left wall, a shadowmark left by the Guild. Vex wasn't lying to me, than. The scratched in square surrounded by a circle meant their was some good loot inside. It was to be expected, though, I was in front of the Dragonborn's house. With a sigh, I crouched down. I briefly glanced to the side a few times, though I doubted anyone was out here. Markarth tended to be dull this close to the walls. When I was sure it was safe, I quietly slid open the door.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The first room was empty. It also appeared to be a kitchen. Right across from me was a large fireplace with a cooking spit and a few pots. Lining the spaces on the wall on either side of the fire were shelves stocked with various ingredients. I continued on a bit further, seeing nothing of any value in this first room. The door to my right opened into what was probably a bedroom. A large, full-sized bed dominated the small room. Two end tables stood on either side of it, one topped with a small stack of books. I moved quietly over towards the end table, rifling through the books. Nothing of value. I then rummaged through the drawers of the end tables, only coming up with 21 gold and 5 lockpicks. I sighed. Seemed Vex and the Guild had lied.

The only other thing of interest in the bedroom was an elven dagger. I tucked it into my pack and continued through the door on the same wall as the bed.

_This_ was the room I'd been looking for. The first thing my eyes rested upon was a solid gold Statue of Dibella. A few mannequins stood in the center of the room, one holding a full set of Wolf Armor, another with a full set of Iron Armor, and the last wearing Leather. I continued on past the mannequins, my greed driving me toward the bowl of jewels he had sitting beside one of the Stones of Barenziah. Just as my fingers wrapped around it, I heard a low voice behind me.

"What are you doing?"

I turned around slowly, fearfully facing the orc. He had light green skin, with a darker green tribal marking around one eye, and pale blue eyes. He had a full set of dark brown hair, the top portion pulled back into a ponytail. He definitely looked fearsome, considering he was an Orsimer, and dressed in steel plate armor.

"What are you doing?" he bellowed again, making me flinch. I wasn't about to let him see I was scared, though. I rose to my full height – coming only to his chest – and glared up at him.

"What does it look like? And who are you?" I asked in response.

"This is my house. I should be asking _you_ that." the Orc growled.

"I'm Fjotra." I answered smoothly, narrowing my eyes at him. "This is the home of the Dragonborn, Orc. What are you doing in it?"

Suddenly, the Orsimer began laughing. It started as a slow chuckle, but soon he was doubled over roaring in mirth.

"What is so damned funny?" I hissed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"_I'm_ the dragonborn, Nord." he said as he sobered.

"_Y-you're _the dragonborn? An orc?" I asked, hardly comprehending. I thought the Dragonborn would be a valiant Nord, not some slobbering beast.

"Yes. I'm both Orsimer and Dovahkiin. Now, back to the issue at hand. What are you doing in my house?"

I froze. I had no idea how to enter. This was the real deal. The Dragonborn. The holder of the fabled Thu'um. He could rip me apart with a simple word.

"I-I was just looking for the Dragonborn. I..." I trailed off for a moment, my brain going a mile-a-minute to devise a plan. "I need help! With a tomb. I was hoping to buy the aid of the Dragonborn. I'm sure any tomb or dungeon is passable with the aid of the Thu'um."

The Orc's eyes narrowed at me. "I hardly believe a word you just said, but the promise of a dungeon is quite appealing. I also don't like involving myself with the city guards. Just don't expect the Thu'um at your side. All you'll be buying is an Orc."

"Wait, why? You do know the Thu'um, correct?"

"Yes, but I wish not to yield it. I never asked to be your fabled Dragonborn. I never even wished to come to Skyrim for that matter." the Orc growled.

"Then why are you here?" I asked coldly. This was not what I pictured the Dragonborn to be like.

"I used to live in Cyrodil, in a stronghold. Mine was burnt down, all of my family slaughtered. There was a group of bandits – a guild, really – that went around slaying Orsimers. All Nords. They were called the 'No-Orismers' or 'Norsimers'. I had nowhere to go but North, to Skyrim." he grumbled coldly.

"I-I'm sorry." I said softly, not sure what else to do.

"Don't pity me on behalf of your kind, Nord. What's done is done." he snapped, folding his arms over his broad chest.

"Why don't you wish to be Dragonborn, though? There is surely no higher honor." I said, wishing I myself were the Dovahkiin.

"It's not something I want. I do not wish to save Skyrim from dragons, nor do I wish to use Shouts. I'm an Orc, I was raised in a stronghold all my life. I know nothing but a blade in my hand or an arrow in my quiver. I am a warrior, a blacksmith, and hunter, but not a hero. So you may now choose, hire an orc or leave my home and be sure not to show your face around me again."

I sighed. I hadn't even meant to ask the Dragonborn for help, but then the prospect of the Thu'um at my side sounded great. Now I was stuck with a simple orc. Although, I really did need help clearing out the dungeon. Draugrs gave me the creeps, as did skeletons, not to mention my "minor" case of arachnophobia.

"How much do you want?" I asked, pulling out my coin purse.

"Considering your line of work is fairly profitable, 1000 septims."

I nodded and pulled out the gold. I roughly pushed it into his large hand, trying vainly to avoid touching the meaty green paw. He glared at me.

"Should I come get you in the morning?" I asked, sure the Orc wouldn't be up until long after the sun rose.

"Sure. Be prepared. If you don't dally in magick, bring potions. I also expect you to be ready for toe-to-toe combat. Your sneaking won't get you far."

"I'm perfectly capable at dual wielding, along with archery." I said pridefully.

"Just leave. You tire me." the Orsimer muttered, rubbing a hand along his face.

"Wait, what's your name? I believe it's time we get past using each other's race."

"Khorbuck gro-Burkul." he grunted.

"See you tomorrow, than, Khorbuck gr..." I trailed off as I stumbled over attempts at his name.

"Just Khorbuck." he said, waving a hand dismissively.

I left his house with a happy heart. The idiot had never thought to check my pack, where his small Dibella statue and amulet resided. The fool.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning I was dressed in my usual light leather armor, discarding the helmet. Those things always irritated me. It's not like I'd let my enemies get close enough to even have the need for one. As I waited in front of the shack, I crouched down in the bushes, examining the plant life. I only used alchemy for poisons, and it appeared the Dragonborn never did. There was plenty of herbs and fungi to collect. It wasn't long before I found a few patches of mora tapinella to pick, a mushroom that I could use to make lingering poisons. Growing a few feet away, I found some imp stools, a mushroom with the same effect. I picked more than I would need for my poisons, since I could use it for a paralysis potion. I stood up and began searching for any canis root, or swamp fungal pods to finish the potion.

"I didn't expect you to be in to gardening. It seems so unlike a Nord." My jaw clenched involuntarily at the obnoxiously smug sound of Khorbuck's voice.

I rose again and faced him, forcing a smile on my face. "You're all set than?" I asked as cheerily as I could manage. I was in a good mood, and I wasn't about to let _him_ spoil it.

"As ready as I'll ever be." he muttered, adjusting a buckle on his armor. He wore a full set of steelplate armor, minus the helmet. Odd. I'd expect him to be covered from head to foot.

"Helmet?" I asked, gesturing to his head.

He shrugged. "Not a fan. They hinder my hearing and line of sight." He then gestured to my own helmetless head.

"I sneak. The less armor, the better."

He nodded, then began immediately walking away. I trotted after him.

"Where do you think you're going? I haven't even told you the name of the dungeon!"

"Then get on with it." he said impatiently.

"I agreed to investigate Shroud Hearth Barrow in Ivarstead." I said, attempting to match my stride to his, and failing. "The townsfolk think it's haunted."

Khorbuck made some strange grunt in understanding, then turned around and went right back to his house.

"Where are you going?" I called after him.

"To pack. You do realize Ivarstead's a good two or three week's travel, right?" he asked, and I'm sure my face clearly reflected that I didn't, because he snorted. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have expected a female Nord to have any sense of time or direction."

I just glared at him as I followed him into his house. He lifted a large knapsack off the floor and set it on the table, then began stuffing it with a few food items, a couple of health potions, arrows, and a few other things like gems and jewelery.

"What are those for?" I asked, gesturing to the jewels.

"If we meet any traveling merchants or khajitt caravans, we can trade them for other provisions." he answered, giving me a stupid look, as though it were obvious. I glared at him.

"Hurry it up, orc." I grumbled, leaving his house to continue my ingredient gathering. I stopped in my tracks the second I closed the door, slowly sinking into a crouch. I drew my elven bow silently, swiftly nocking an arrow. I steadied my aim, took a deep breath, and released. The elk fell dead with an arrow through his head.

"You're better than I thought, Nord." Khorbuck said from behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I'd never even heard the door open, or him approaching me.

"I never asked your opinion on my skills. I know I'm good. I don't need you telling me." I said coldly.

The orc just laughed. "You don't seem to think I'm good with a bow." he said. Though it was a statement, not a question, I nodded. Khorbuck dropped into a crouch and begin moving towards the brush with much more grace and silence than I'd thought possible from someone so large. He drew a simple hunting bow, nocking an arrow. I glanced in the direction he was aiming, but I saw nothing. Once he let loose an arrow, I heard a sharp bark. The orc disappeared into the brush, returning a few moments later with a dead wolf.

"Color me impressed. You can use a bow on a starving mutt." I said sarcastically, though I was actually fairly impressed.

"One a much farther away than you could see, right? And with a mere hunting bow. I'm better than you, and you know it. My technique is better." he said, much too smugly.

"Fine, teach me your secrets Dovahkiin." I muttered, only a bit curious.

"Draw your bow as you normally would," the orc instructed, setting his wolf down and watching my arms as I drew my weapon, then nocked an arrow, pulling the string tight.

"You're too tense." the Orsimer murmured, standing and striding over to me. He stood behind me, grabbing my shoulders and pushing them down a bit. I was sure my face was bright red. I definitely hadn't expected to get this close to an orc. I relaxed my stance as best as I could, though, but immediately stiffened and squeaked as his hand reached between my legs.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I asked in shock, but was met with a look telling me I was a moron. He spread my legs a bit, adjusting my stance. He rose stiffly, glaring at me.

"Now, if you're done trying to live in your girlish fantasies, can we get on with training?" he asked, sitting in the grass. I couldn't look at him, being too embarrassed after that display. I couldn't believe I actually thought he was going to rape me in the middle of archery training. I sighed, adjusting my position as he'd instructed.

"Good. Improving your stance should make everything a bit easier. Now, are you ready?" he asked, standing and pulling on his knapsack. I stared at him in confusion, having expected a bit more training, but nodded. He led me east, toward what I was hoping to be Ivarstead.

The silence was torture. We'd been traveling a good hour in total, awkward silence. I had no idea what his problem was. Usually he would be mercilessly teasing me. Now he was silent. That was how the rest of the first day went. We finally stopped as the sun was beginning to set, in a grassy field.

"Where are we making camp?" I asked, refusing to let the Orc ignore me all the way to Ivarstead.

"Under that tree for the night." Khorbuck replied, nodding to a small tree off the trail a bit. I didn't like the look of it. Much too open.

"Shouldn't we look for a place that offers better protection?"

"We'll take turns keeping watch. Set out the bed rolls for now." With that cold statement, Khorbuck turned his back to me and began rummaging through his pack.

I sighed, glaring at his broad back as I sunk to my knees, dropping the pack I wore that carried our bed rolls. I unfolded both, setting them at the base of the tree. Then I watched curiously as the Orsimer rummaged in the pack. He lifted a piece of wrapped meat, pulling at the wrapping and examining it, then putting it back and replacing it with another piece of meat. I couldn't help but watch how graceful his large hands moved. It was surprising to see the mammoth-sized paws, usually wielding a blade or bow, skillfully examining the meat, sorting the few cuts into seperate piles.

"What are you looking at?"

I was startled from my close inspection of his hands when the owner of the objects of my fascination spoke. I jerked my head up to meet his gaze, stuttering a bit.

"I-I was j-just wondering what you were doing with the food."

"Sorting it into two piles. This one," he gestured towards the fresher cuts of meat, "is for meat that could last us longer. The other pile needs to be eaten today and tomorrow or it will spoil."

I nodded, as though I was actually interested in his organizing. "Would you like me to get a fire started?"

"Yeah, that'd be good." he muttered, returning the fresher pile to the pack and sorting through the other pile.

I stood, hands on my hips, glaring down at the Orsimer. Then I sighed, turning to the bushes and brambles to search for kindling. Once I had a fairly large sized pile of dried sticks and branches, I set them into a small pile a fair distance from our "camp". Then I used the small understanding of magick I had to produce a small flame in the center of the kindling, where it slowly grew to a nice, steady fire.

Once I had the fire going strong, Khorbuck came over, holding two small slabs of venison. He glanced at the fire for a moment, then the meat, then shrugged, jabbing a long stick through both pieces. He held the stick above the fire, slowly cooking the venison. All in silence.

I sighed, staring into the flames.

"Khorbuck," I began hesitantly. Once the Orsimer glanced at me, I carried on. "I really am sorry that I've been so racist. You're the only Orc I've met who hasn't tried to kill me. As a Nord, I've been raised to dislike most mer. I understand that that's not an excuse, but it's the truth. I've never been able to disprove the things I was told as a child. But – But I am willing to change my views. I am interested in the Orsimer culture, and if you'd be so kind as to share, I'd be happy to listen."

Khorbuck was silent for quite a while, and I may have thought him to be a sleep had his hands not been constantly turning the meat.

"I have been stupid, asking you to treat my race with respect when I've not given mine to the Nords. Like you, I've been raised believing my race above the others. If you are interested in Orsimer, truly, I was thinking of stopping at the nearby stronghold, Dushnikh Yal. We could get more supplies, and a home for the night."

"I understand that the Orsimer live in strongholds, but what exactly do they do there?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Khorbuck gave me a look that was almost kind, breaking the stick holding the cooked meat in half and handing me a piece. I could tell there was lot for him to tell me. I settled down on my bedroll.

"Each stronghold is ruled by a chieftain. This chief is decided by blood. The chief, when he gets too old to rule well, will be slain in fair combat by one of his sons. The chief is the only orc, besides those few he deems strong enough, to be allowed to wed or have children. The chief usually takes two wives, a forge-wife and a hunts-wife, but can take as many as he wishes."

By the time Khorbuck's long story of the Orsimer was done, I was laying in my bed roll, half-asleep, watching his hands again as he used them to punctuate his sentences and draw pictures in the air. The more I listened to his deep voice, the more soothing it became. He grinned at me – the first smile I think he'd given me – and nodded for me to sleep.

"I'll take first watch." he said, although there was hardly any night left. I smiled and let sleep take me, comforted by the Orc's presence, and the promise of a stronghold tomorrow.


	3. Mo Chuisle

_Author's Note: For this chapter, and the rest of the story, let's pretend gaelic is the Orcish language. Also, if any of the Gaelic is wrong, please correct me. I'm not a native speaker myself, so I'm a bit clueless. Thanks! As always, comment and critique. _

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"Get up, you lazy brute."

I groaned as a boot came in contact with my side, pushing me. I rolled away from the source of the disturbance, only to feel the bed roll I was sleeping on top of pull out from under me, turning me flat on my face. Rising indignantly to my feet, hands on my hips, I turned to glare at the Orc.

"I'm up, I'm up." I muttered, sitting back down on top of the bed roll.

"Hurry up and get ready. I want to leave now, so we can make it to Dushnikh Yal before sundown." Khorbuck snapped, back to his usual temperament, thankfully.

I ignored his rushing and began to pull my fingers through my long, tangled blonde hair, pulling out the knots. The Orsimer snorted at my "vanity", considering his hair was perfectly in place. It had been since we left. I glared enviously at his head.

Finally, I was ready. My hair was tamed and pulled back into a high ponytail, my pack was stuffed with our bedding, and I was almost finished rubbing the sleep from my green eyes.

Khorbuck glared at me as I walked slowly to his side, eyes on the slowly rising sun. I was infuriated.

"You really woke me up this early?" I grumbled.

"Yes, I did. I was up all night, Nord. Don't complain." he said.

It didn't take long at all before Khorbuck stopped.

"Look over there, Dushnikh Yal." he told me, pointing to a large wall of wooden planks.

"Are you sure I'll be let in?" I asked hesitantly as we neared. The shape of an Orc standing guard in front of the gate was just beginning to come into view.

"Yeah. I'm Orsimer, and you're with me. Just keep your mouth shut." Khorbuck said.

Once we were about three or four meters away, the Orc rose to attention.

"Who're you?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"Just a traveler, kin, looking for a place to trade and spend the night." Khorbuck said, then nodded to me. "She's my companion."

"She a Nord?"

"Yes, but she won't cause you or the stronghold any trouble, I guarantee. She's a fine hunter, and would gladly pay you for your time in pelts and meat."

The Orsimer stared at me for a long time, than nodded. "Fine, but she better behave." he said, pulling the gate open for us.

"Thank you kin." Khorbuck said, dipping his head to the other Orc. I copied the gesture, pleased to see the Orc's mouth turn up at the corners.

Khorbuck lead me through the bustling stronghold to where another Orc sat under a tent, a bitchy looking female Orc behind him. By the way he carried himself, and the way Khorbuck looked at him, it was obvious he was the chief.

"What brings you to Dushnikh Yal?" the dark-skinned Orc grumbled, looking only at Khorbuck, not me.

"We wish to trade and rest for the night."Khorbuck answered.

"_You_ may stay. The Nord goes." Again, not even a glance in my direction, even though I was the object of their discussion.

Khorbuck was about to say something, but I shouldered my way in front of him. I folded my arms over my chest, glaring at the ugly old Orc.

"Excuse me, Orsimer, but I believe you're being extremely rude. Us Nords have never cast your kind out of our walls, and I expect nothing less from your race – even if you are savage beasts." I hissed, blatantly ignoring Khorbuck's quiet attempts to shut me up.

The Orc chief's wrinkly face passed through many emotions all at once in a most amusing display. He was first shocked, then a bit confused, enraged, and finally he managed to gain control over his face and glare at me with cold indifference.

"You best learn to hold your tongue, Nord. Most Orsimer won't be as patient as me. Speaking like this to your elder chieftan is a good way to lose your head." he said softly.

"I-I'm sorry, Chief." Khorbuck said quickly, pushing me behind him. "She doesn't know what she's saying."

"Don't cover for her, kin. In the stronghold, we judge others by their hunting prowess, forging skill, and strength. Let her prove to me the worth she so believes she holds. Come here, Nord."

I stepped in front of Khorbuck, glaring haughtily at the Chief. "What must I do? Slay a giant? Rescue a maiden from a tower?" I paused for a second to smile at him. "Or kiss your arrogant ass?"

I saw the chief's fists clench tightly together as he glared at me. "Simple. Bring me back the Forgemaster's Fingers."

"Where are these Forgemaster's Fingers?" I asked.

"Hag Rock Redoubt, a small nordic ruin inhabited by Forsworn. It shouldn't prove too difficult. Bring me the Forgemaster's fingers and I shall allow you full access to Dushnikh Yal and all Strongholds."

"Thank you very much, Chief..."

"Burguk." the Chief supplied.

"Thank you very much Chief Burguk" Khrobuck finished. I snorted at his pathetic attempts at manners and began making my way back through the stronghold. Khorbuck caught up with me moments later.

"I can't believe you walked away from that alive." he mumbled as we left the Stronghold's walls.

"You Orsimer are all talk and show, no action." I said coldly, pulling out my map.

Khorbuck just laughed, sitting down in the grass at my feet. "I guess you're not used to meeting someone as vain and stubborn as you."

"I can't believe we have to completely back track to reach Hag Rock Redoubt." I muttered, pointing to the spot on the map, a little ways behind Markarth.

"Then let's get going." Khorbuck replied, slowly rising to his feet. I glanced up at the sun and shook my head.

"The sun's beginning to set. Let's make camp and get going tomorrow." I said, shouldering my pack off and beginning to pull out the bed rolls. Khorbuck stared at me in amusement for a few moments.

"Funny, once you're determined to prove yourself to someone, you suddenly have common sense." he mused, pulling off his own pack.

"What's that supposed -" I began, indignantly.

"Go collect some wood, _mo chuisle_." Khorbuck interrupted.

"What does that mean?"

"I'll let you figure that out on your own. Now get going." Khorbuck said, smiling. I glared at him, turning to search for wood.


End file.
